Eighteen’s Bed

Two days later, I discovered a small note in the shoe locker.

"Could you come to the storage room for a bit before gym class today?"
I wondered for a moment if it was a confession. But then I remembered—this was an all-boys school. The idea of a confession was quickly dismissed. Of course, that couldn’t be it. I completely forgot about the note until just before the fourth period, which was gym class.
After changing into my gym clothes, I headed to the storage room. I felt a bit curious about who it might be, but I didn’t give it much thought. After all, I assumed it wasn’t anything significant. However, the sender of the note turned out to be an unexpected person: a timid face with his black hair neatly pressed down. Han Taesan.

“Han Taesan?”
I called his name in a puzzled tone, and his small head, busy biting his nails, snapped up. He waved, showing the same bright smile he had when he first transferred to our school. That smile annoyed me, and my brow furrowed.
“What is it? Why so suddenly?”

In response to my question, Han Taesan nervously twisted his plump fingers.
“Ah, I... I have something I want to say...”
“What is it?”

I wanted to leave as soon as possible. Honestly, I didn’t want anyone to see us alone together. I didn’t want to be caught up in strange rumors. I always helped Han Taesan just enough to appear morally upright—no more, no less.
Oblivious to my feelings, Han Taesan kept biting his thumb while nervously looking around the storage room. His face showed a mix of indecision and determination. Whenever he seemed ready to speak, he would clamp his mouth shut.
“...”

This stirred up my irritation. I’d never liked Han Taesan to begin with, so whatever he did only made me dislike him more. His small mouth kept moving hesitantly—an action that might have seemed cute to someone else, but to me, it was unbearably annoying. I realized I might be overly sensitive.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I need to get to class. Can you just say it already?”
To make matters worse, I wasn’t in great shape today. My head felt like a tangled mess of frustration and confusion.

Maybe I wasn’t really angry at Han Taesan. Maybe I just wanted to lash out at someone—anyone. Lately, my stomach had been acting up more, and it was starting to stress me out.
While I was lost in these thoughts, Han Taesan finally seemed to make up his mind. In a small, stammering voice, he began to speak.
“Uh, Jun... I... uh, you see, I...”

“Yeah?”
I halfheartedly responded, scratching my neck. The break time was almost over, and I wished he would just spit it out. I even felt tempted to force his little mouth open and drag the words out myself.
Then, unfortunately, the storage room door suddenly opened. Both Han Taesan and I turned to look, and we locked eyes with Han Junwoo, who was gasping for breath. Actually, no—Han Junwoo wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were on Han Taesan.
“Huff, huff...”

His heavy breathing gave it away. Han Junwoo had been running. My chest ached with a suffocating feeling as I imagined him running around the school looking for Han Taesan.
Han Junwoo let out a long exhale and strode confidently into the storage room. Without realizing it, I dropped the hand I had been using to rub my neck. Han Junwoo’s gaze flickered between Han Taesan and me, his expression fierce.
“Why are you here with him?”

It wasn’t clear who he was addressing. His clenched fists opened and closed.
Behind my outward calm, I felt like my insides were being pounded. After a long pause, Han Junwoo finally looked at me. But I couldn’t stand the way he looked at me—it was unbearable.
“What the hell, Han Junwoo.”

Please, please. Don’t look at me like that. Blame Han Taesan for calling me here. Why are you staring at me, your so-called close friend, with such resentment? I got dragged into this mess because of him.
Even as I thought this, Han Junwoo’s burning eyes stayed locked onto me. I knew those weren’t the eyes of someone filled with passion or fervor. They were the eyes of someone consumed by rage, jealousy, and madness. It was the face of a man deranged by love—a face I found pitiful and despicable in equal measure.
“Why are you here with him!”

You look pathetic, Han Junwoo. So pathetic. I glared back at him. Yet, somehow, I felt like the pitiful one wasn’t you—it was me.
Before I realized it, Han Junwoo’s long strides had brought him right in front of me. The moment I looked closely at his face, the world shook.
“...!”

I couldn’t even process what had happened. My body toppled to the ground, and only then did my mind replay the events.
“No way...”
He hit me.

Han Junwoo hit me.
Lying on the ground, I touched my cheek with trembling hands. I couldn’t believe it. How could you... How could you do this to me?
“J-Jun!”

“You bastard! I told you to call me Kang Jun! No, don’t even call me that—don’t call me at all, you asshole!”
Han Taesan, horrified, rushed toward me, but Han Junwoo screamed like a madman. Seeing Han Junwoo’s furious face, Han Taesan’s expression grew increasingly pale.
“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You promised! You fucking promised! Damn it!”
Han Taesan took a step back, his face on the verge of tears. But no, he wasn’t the one who should be crying—I was.
I felt tears welling up inside me, threatening to spill over. Thankfully, before I could break down, Han Junwoo cursed violently and stormed off, dragging Han Taesan by the arm. It all happened so quickly.

Left sitting alone in the storage room, I stared at the half-open door. Sunlight streamed through the crack, and something inside me finally gave way. The dam holding back my emotions burst, and tears flowed freely.
I hated everything. Han Taesan, who dragged me into this by calling me here. Han Junwoo, who hit me. I wished they would both just disappear. I felt miserable for being reduced to a mere bystander in their twisted relationship.
I got up, skipped gym class, and went straight to the teacher’s office to request an early dismissal. My swollen, red face made my excuse believable, and my homeroom teacher seemed to understand without prying.

*****
When I got home, I collapsed on my bed and slept. When I woke up, my face had turned puffy and bruised. Out of habit, I checked my phone and saw a message from Go Yohan. We didn’t usually text, but I must have some record of contact with him because of Han Junwoo. Damn it.
If it were anyone else, I would’ve ignored the message. But Go Yohan wasn’t just anyone. He was second in rank to Han Junwoo and had influence over the cliques in school. I couldn’t afford to ignore him.

"Hey, when did you sneak off?"
I clicked my tongue and replied belatedly to the three-hour-old scolding.
"Haha, wasn’t feeling great."

I deliberately kept it light. I didn’t want anyone to know about my current situation. The thought of people finding out that Han Junwoo had hit me was unbearably humiliating. And all because of Han Taesan, no less.
"Are you okay?"
Go Yohan, showing concern? What the hell? The strange feeling made me shut off my phone.

Hours later, a wave of sadness hit me. Even Go Yohan’s message felt suffocating. Other friends I studied with had also reached out, but none of it was what I wanted.
No one searching for me included Han Junwoo. I must be out of my mind. Still, I consoled myself, thinking this was the fate of someone consumed by maddening love.
Even knowing the truth, I lay there like an idiot, doing what I was best at—closing my eyes and turning a blind eye to reality.

"…I'm not the only one."
Maybe Han Taesan and I were in the same situation. That strange, twisted, grotesque thought lingered. A selfish, wicked, childish hope intertwined with it. While lying on my bed staring at the ceiling, another message came through. It was from an unknown number.
"Jun, are you feeling very sick?"

I frowned. Who among my peers would call me Jun? Go Yohan? But this wasn’t his number. Before I could think further, a follow-up message arrived, relentless and infuriating.
"I’m sorry. Really sorry. It’s all because of me."
"I’m sorry."

"Please forgive me."
Whether it was three words or four, it all made me want to scream. I threw my phone onto the floor in frustration. How did this bastard get my number? And how is someone who supposedly doesn’t even have a phone sending me messages?
Then it hit me. Oh. I had called him before, hadn’t I?

I cursed my idiotic brain and let out an angry sigh. To vent my frustration, I pounded my fists against the bed for a while until I was too tired to continue and eventually fell asleep. Just before my thoughts completely faded, one last message lingered in my mind.
"Please, don’t hate me."
Funny. I’ve already hated you for months.

The next morning, when I woke up, my face was swollen like a steamed bun.
*****
I skipped school. No matter how much of a model student I was, I wasn’t passionate enough about my studies to show up with a face like this.

The housekeeper prepared lunch for me. As I ate, she couldn’t resist scolding me, telling me to be more careful. Lunch itself was nothing special—soft porridge and limp side dishes like seasoned eggplant. I swallowed it all in one go without chewing much.
As I was setting my spoon down and reaching for a glass of water, the housekeeper came to clear the dishes. With the plate in one hand, she said,
“Jun, you’ve got a friend here.”
“What?”

“Should I let them in?”
A friend. My heart fluttered slightly at the word. Before I could even identify the emotion, my mind had already begun imagining who might be standing at the door.
Could it be... Han Junwoo?

It seemed like a wild fantasy, but it wasn’t entirely impossible. There weren’t many people from school who had ever visited my house. Among my friends, only a handful even knew where I lived. If it was him, then he must have come to apologize after finally feeling guilty about hitting me. Han Junwoo had never struck me before, not once. Yeah, he must have been worried and upset.
“Yes, please let them in.”
The fantasy solidified into a certainty. Even though I chastised myself for being so naive, I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. Despite everything, I was still important to him in some way. That thought filled me with an inexplicable warmth. I quickly turned toward the front door, my pace picking up with excitement.

But the person waiting there wasn’t who I had expected.
“Yo, what’s up?”
A sharp-featured face greeted me with a playful smirk, holding up a bag of snacks. As soon as he saw my face, though, he stopped in his tracks and asked in an unusually serious tone,
“What the hell happened to your face?”

My knees almost buckled from the sudden letdown. How does Go Yohan even know where I live?
“...I fell,” I replied flatly.
Go Yohan frowned, twisting his lips in that way he always did before saying something sarcastic.
“You really are an idiot, huh?”

I didn’t bother to argue. I just rubbed my swollen face, feeling a dull ache near my cheek. Embarrassment surged as I thought about my earlier anticipation. I was such an idiot. Han Junwoo didn’t think of me as someone important. And here I was, wagging my tail like a hopeful little dog—like a complete moron.
“Here, take this.”
Go Yohan handed me an ice cream. I accepted it and immediately opened the lid to check the flavor.

“...It’s green tea.”
“Is it? Didn’t even notice.”
“Figures. Why would you care?”

“Damn, that’s harsh.”
“What are you even doing here?”
“What do you think? Came to check on you. Mind if I come in?”

“Hey, wait!”
Without hesitation, his long legs carried him into the house.
“Where’s your room?”

“Hey, where are you going?”
“Where else? There’s nowhere else to go in your house.”
“...”

I had no comeback for that. He was right. Houses were all the same, weren’t they? Feeling awkward, I followed Go Yohan, who seemed oddly intent on inspecting the interior of my home. I pointed to my room, figuring he was searching for it. Once we got there, he sat down and grabbed a spoon, eating two-thirds of my ice cream before I could stop him. Damn it.
“Are you an only child?”
With the spoon still in his mouth, Go Yohan casually looked around the room before asking. Was it that obvious?

“Yeah. Why?”
“No reason. Just figured.”
“People say I give off that vibe a lot.”

“What vibe?”
“You know, like someone who got a lot of love from their parents. That only-child energy.”
“Ugh...”

“What’s with that face?”
“Sometimes you’re just too much to deal with.”
“Really? That’s a pretty funny expression for someone who thinks that.”

“It’s kind of funny.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”

“Are you an only child too?”
“Nope. I’m the middle child. Three siblings—an older brother and a younger sister.”
“That doesn’t suit you at all...”

“Right? People say I look like someone who was showered with parental love too.”
“...”
Ah, so this is what it feels like. Scratching the back of my head awkwardly, I replied,
“Must be nice, having siblings.”

“You think so?”
“That’s what people say. It’s like having a built-in friend at home.”
“Bullshit. Whoever told you that is lying through their teeth. Having siblings is a pain in the ass.”

“...Really?”
“Yeah. Oh, by the way, Han Junwoo’s been fighting again.”
This was one of Go Yohan’s quirks—he’d often jump between topics without warning. It was a terrible habit of his.

Go Yohan stopped talking and put the plastic spoon into his mouth. Lifting my head from the ice cream container, I glanced at him. He sucked on the spoon before scooping another large bite of ice cream and shoving it into his mouth. Swirling the ice cream around, he casually waved the spoon in the air.
“Yesterday, during lunch, you didn’t show up. Then later, when Han Taesan came to grab his bag after class, his face was all red. Ugh. Brutal. You ditched me, Han Junwoo acted weird, those pigs ran off to gorge on lunch, and I ended up eating tteokbokki outside like some kind of outcast.”
So, he’d wandered off during lunch and gone to eat tteokbokki on his own. Yet his voice carried such an aggrieved tone that I was almost speechless.

“Han Junwoo hit Han Taesan?”
“Yeah, again.”
Though he said it, Go Yohan’s tone didn’t sound concerned at all.

Honestly, at that moment, I felt a bit relieved. At least I wasn’t the only one who got hit. That reassurance came over me like a tide, bringing with it a flicker of petty satisfaction.
And thinking about Han Junwoo resorting to violence even after creating such a mess, I couldn’t help but find it both pathetic and oddly comforting in its absurdity. As Go Yohan’s words sank in, the frustration weighing on me felt like it was finally beginning to lift.
“Is this funny to you?”

“No. What’s funny about Han Taesan getting hit?”
“You’re laughing.”
“I wasn’t laughing.”

“You totally were. What’s wrong with you? Laughing at someone getting hit, ditching me on top of that.”
“Would you stop saying I ditched you? You could’ve skipped school too.”
“Are you nuts? If my grades suck and my attendance is bad, my life’s basically over.”

I couldn’t hold back a laugh at his last comment.
“Honestly, that last part was funny. Right?”
Go Yohan grinned as he sought my agreement, but I shook my head.

“Not really. Your grades aren’t even bad.”
“Wow. Someone actually knows my grades. Not even my parents know that.”
“Are you touched?”

“Yeah. Almost cried just now. Did you see? My eyes almost teared up.”
I leaned forward to get a closer look at his eyes. Despite his sharp features, his eyelashes were surprisingly long and thick. They were so long that they tangled slightly, but instead of looking moist, his cold expression made them seem dry and brittle.
“Nope. Not a trace of tears.”

“What the hell? That’s so heartless.”
Go Yohan squinted his eyes slightly, revealing his lashes even more, and pouted his lower lip like he was genuinely offended.
“Still, I didn’t know you cared about me this much, Jun,” he teased.

“Likewise, I didn’t realize you cared enough to come all the way out to my house uninvited,” I shot back, matching his sarcastic tone.
He rested his chin on his hand, drumming his fingers against his cheek. The rapid tap-tap of his fingers, like raindrops falling, went on for ten seconds or so before he finally spoke.
“That stings a little.”

“What does?”
Feigning a sad expression—one that didn’t suit him in the slightest—he suddenly said,
“Give me your hand.”
I held out my right hand, wondering what he was up to. He placed one of his fingers on my palm. But, of course, it wasn’t just any finger. It was his middle finger.

“Fuck you.”
“Goddammit, you little—”
Engaging in such a pitiful charade, I watched as Go Yohan, having devoured all the ice cream, spent the rest of his time pestering me to come to school tomorrow because it was "too boring without me." Eventually, he seemed to tire himself out, his exhaustion evident. Just as I thought he might finally leave, he shamelessly sprawled out on my bed and fell asleep.

“...How the hell did he even get up there?”
I considered waking him up, but as I looked at his sleeping face, I decided to let him be. Instead, I sat on the sofa near the bed and passed the time. I didn’t like it, but I figured this was the price of him coming to check on me.
Go Yohan woke up two hours later. The moment he opened his eyes, he shot upright, mumbling some ridiculous excuse about needing to watch a drama. Without another word, he rushed out of the house. He’s still as incomprehensible as ever.

After sending him off in a hurry, I slathered ointment on my face and lay down on my bed.
Even if my cheek doesn’t heal completely, I feel like I’ll be able to go to school tomorrow. For some reason, it just seems possible.